


noblesse oblige

by thisisthefamilybusiness



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/F, Family Drama, Fencing, Fluff, Matchmaking, Pre-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), Wyman is just happy to be here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthefamilybusiness/pseuds/thisisthefamilybusiness
Summary: “You must understand that she is not an ordinary girl. There are things that royalty are obligated to do because of their station in society, regardless of their own opinions on the matter. Marriage is one of those.” The matchmaker sets her cup down and presses her lips into a thin line. “It is about politics. It is about power. As Her Majesty’s father, I understand it is your desire to see your daughter as happy as possible. As Her Majesty’s Royal Protector and trusted advisor… I would hope you encourage her to think about her duties to her empire.”





	noblesse oblige

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a French phrase that refers to the concept that nobility is not just an entitlement, but also comes with a set of social obligations that nobles must follow

The matchmaker first calls when Emily turns seventeen years old. She comes all the way from Wei-Ghon, her black hair pulled tight against her scalp in an ornate style, little gold flowers pinned in the elaborate rolls. Her nails are lacquered in a deep red that matches the silk gown she wears, long enough to click together as she sips at the tea Corvo pours for her in his office.

“I hope the journey was not too rough, Lady Jie.” Corvo settles in his chair opposite from the matchmaker. He remembers her mother, of course, who had arrived to Dunwall Tower on Jessamine’s seventeenth birthday and left in a tizzy when Jessamine refused to see her and Euhorn had—in a rare moment of fatherly affection—indulged his daughter.

Corvo remembers the visit on Jessamine’s twentieth birthday equally well, and Jessamine—newly crowned as Empress—giving a speech on how she felt her authority was Empress was being questioned by this insistence she marry, the poignancy of which was undoubtedly undermined by Corvo’s own skulking presence behind her. Everyone knew the real reason Jessamine had turned the matchmaker away.  

“Will you be speaking as Emily’s father, or as Royal Protector, Lord Attano?” Jie says quietly, staring coolly at Corvo over the edge of her tea cup.

“Does it matter?” Corvo gulps his own tea a little too quickly.

“You must understand that she is not an ordinary girl. There are things that royalty are obligated to do because of their station in society, regardless of their own opinions on the matter. Marriage is one of those.” The matchmaker sets her cup down and presses her lips into a thin line. “It is about politics. It is about power.

“As Her Majesty’s father, I understand it is your desire to see your daughter as happy as possible. As Her Majesty’s Royal Protector and trusted advisor… I would hope you encourage her to think about her duties to her empire.”

As loathe as Corvo to agree with her, she has… a point. “She’s still a girl,” he says warily. “No matter her rank, she’s not marriageable yet.”

Jie nods. “These matches are not made overnight, Your Lordship. I would need to meet with Her Majesty, and some time to seek appropriate matches for her to meet. Her Majesty is under no obligation to wed any match I would present her with, now or later.”

Emily hadn’t seemed averse to the matchmaker when she was informed of her arrival. And, Corvo decides, if Emily did end up hating her, she could always send Jie away the same way Jessamine had.

“Alright,” Corvo sighs.

* * *

It takes a year before the matchmaker sends the first potential suitors to Dunwall Tower.

Emily seems taken aback by how many there are—five girls around her own age, from all different corners of the Isles, from the finest aristocratic and noble families. Lady Jie requires that Emily receive them in the throne room at a private gala, even though Corvo can tell his daughter would much rather have a quiet reception in a private parlor.

Emily would also clearly rather be wearing anything except her finest clothing—a black suit embroidered with pale flowers, her mother’s favorite floral hairpin delicately pinned to her hair—but Jie’s insistence on all the finery makes sense once the suitors make their grand entrance, gowns and suits of expensive silk and linen accessorized with enough jewels to blind anyone unprepared.  

 _Sonya Natalia Mikhailov Petrov_ _of Samara_. _Daughter of Anatole Andrei Vyacheslav Mikhailov Petrov, High Judge of Tyvia_ —a flurry of a traditional Tyvian court gown, red silk trimmed in white fur, diamond kokoshnik tiara perched amid dark curls.

 _Her Ladyship Yawen Guo. Daughter of His Majesty Jiahao Guo, Son of the Stars, the Commandant of Wei-Ghon_ —her robes a brightly-colored tapestry of needlework in reds and blues and greens, gold hairpins supporting an ornate hairstyle.

 _Her Royal Highness, Elan Maebh McCumhaill, the Princess of Morley_ —a deep blue velvet with mostly-bare shoulders and watery blue eyes that seemed a pale imitation of her sapphire brooches.

 _Her Ladyship Manon Esme Marchand. Daughter of Her Grace Adrienne Honorine Marchand, the Duchess of Bosse_ —a swirl of soft pink silk with white lace, at least a dozen pearl chains draped around her neck.

 _Her Grace Wyman Aldous Olhouser, the Duchess of Driscol_ —the only one in a suit, black wool embroidered with abstract purple shapes and a cape pinned over one shoulder, short-cropped black hair barely styled and shirt collar askew. Jie looks vaguely upset to have to present this girl, who clearly did not grasp the importance of the occasion and gave an overdramatic bow instead of a simple curtsey.

Of course, once Emily has politely greeted them all, it’s this girl that Emily immediately wants to talk to.

“I feared as much,” the matchmaker sighs to Corvo, plucking a champagne glass off the table.

“What do you mean?” Corvo keeps his gaze on Emily, who is giggling conspiratorially with Wyman in a corner of the throne room.

“I did not bring any unsuitable girls, of course, but some here are… more suitable than others.” Jie’s face is pinched. “More… Educated in the ways of court and aristocracy. Quiet, suitable wives for the Empress, who have quiet, suitable hobbies.”

Corvo huffs a laugh.

“Her Grace is a championship fencer, excellent horseback rider. Studying military history in university. Athletic, loud, and prone to ignoring the conventions of aristocracy. Likely to get into trouble if left unsupervised.” Jie gestures at the suitor from Tyvia, who curtsied deeply when Emily hesitantly approached, Wyman lingering behind her like a shadow. “Compare to Sonya.

“Sonya has spent the past ten years of her life in preparatory lessons for aristocratic women in Dabokva, learning how to be the most perfect noblewoman she can be. She’s fluent in Tyvian, Gristolian, even a little Old Serkonan. She paints, embroiders, plays the harp, and is one of the finest ballet dancers in the Tyvian company. She can imagine no greater happiness than sitting next to a wife who expects her to host dinner parties for mining barons and tend to their children with a smile on her face.

“Or compare to Lady Yawen. She’s a bit freer in the spirit, but her only real desires are for nice clothing and elaborate parties. She lives for the court life, for showing off in front of the aristocracy. A bit extravagant for Emily’s tastes, undoubtedly. But Lady Yawen would bring a brightness to court that there hasn’t been in many years.

“Wyman will speak out of turn in court. She has no real care for what titles mean, nor any of the other things that a noblewoman should.” Jie casts a sideways glance at Corvo. “Very much like your daughter.”

“Why did you bring her, then?” Corvo folds his arms over his chest.

Jie sips at her champagne, pursing her red-painted lips. “Because she is the only one Her Majesty will ask to stay at court. The Empress will say that Yawen is too preoccupied with appearances, Manon is too forwards and blunt with her words. Elan is so homesick for Morley that she won’t stop tearing up at the prospect of having to leave her country behind. Sonya might be asked to stay, too, but she will return to Dabokva within the year, and the Empress will say it’s because Sonya only knew how to please others and had no opinions or thoughts of her own on anything significant.”

Corvo wants to raise a protest, but nothing the matchmaker has said is unfair or untrue.

At least, Corvo decided, Emily had a chance of marrying someone within her own social rank—and a champion fencer, at that. Inherited her tastes in partners from her mother, apparently.

It had been many, many years since Corvo had picked up a fencing foil, but he was sure he could easily hold his own against a girl his daughter’s age.

* * *

 

(In the end, Corvo is knocked flat on his back and the cold metal of Wyman’s fencing foil is against his throat within a few minutes. Corvo does not hold his own, after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> Several days' worth of writing for my 500 words/day challenge! This has no photo inspiration, and instead just was a result of spending too much time wondering how Emily and Wyman might have met.
> 
>  
> 
> talk to me on [on tumblr](http://officialclaricestarling.tumblr.com) | [buy me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/clstarling/) & i'll write you a ficlet!


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